


thought i was your king

by ThisJoyAndI



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisJoyAndI/pseuds/ThisJoyAndI
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(hoping that you would be my queen)<br/>Anne has some protests against Richard's plans. 'You will be my queen Anne, and I shall be your king. I couldn’t bear the ceremony without you by my side.' Missing scene from 1x08</p>
            </blockquote>





	thought i was your king

Her forehead furrows when he tells her he is planning a double coronation. He is already in a state of undress, and she will soon follow, before they adjourn to their bed and his lips will be on hers. Lips pursued at his suggestion, she draws her hands down from her half-undone braid, clasping her fingers together in thought. He notes her reaction and releases a sigh, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

“You don’t think it to be a good idea?” he questions, his breeches loose around his hips and hair mussed from running his fingers through it in thought.

She arches an eyebrow, biting down on her lower lip in contemplation. “I’m not sure what I think...I’ve never heard of a double coronation occurring before, but I suppose that’s because the past kings had been crowned before entering into marriage.” She undoes the rest of her hair quickly, patting down the strands, still damp from the rain shower she caught herself in whilst enjoying her afternoon stroll. “I don’t know if you should honour me in such a manner...You’re the king, and you should take precedence. I’d love an elaborate coronation, love to be part of a procession through London, but that can come later.” She looks up at him sadly, gently, his fingers swiftly undoing the loops of her dress. “Maybe when Edward can come and watch...I do so miss him.”

He places a soft kiss on her brow, the stubble of his chin raspy against her skin. “I know you do,” he murmurs into her hair, her nose resting in the hollow of his collarbone. “I do too.” She breathes deeply, drawing in the scent of him – clean, pure, delightful. Hers, until death parted them.

“The last double coronation was centuries ago,” he informs her, drawing soothing circles on her back. She shivers slightly underneath his touch, but not because of the chill of his skin. It is in thought of what will come later, and she takes happiness in the fact that even after ten blissful years of marriage to Richard she can still be excited by the thought of his touch. Other men would surely feel contempt towards her for her string of failed pregnancies, and she swallows a sob at the thought of so many lives that never began, but Richard does not. He is there to comfort her when she weeps at their loss, there to dissuade her guilt for not providing him with more children, babies named _Izzy, Richard, Anne and George_ who have been lost from them, there to smooth her hair back from her brow and there to place so many kisses on her body that she forgets about her troubles and concentrates only the feel of his lips against her skin.

“Oh?” she replies, clearing her head and concentrating on her husband. He nods in assent. “That might be further reason not to hold one then. The people won’t be expecting it, and the Council may take offense. I want you to claim the throne because it is the rightful thing to do, and the people need to see and understand that, not think that you are only doing this to please me. If it were for the tenderness of our nephew’s age, and the vicious nature of the Queen Dowager, I would perfectly happy with remaining a royal duchess and spending my life with you at Middleham with our boy.” She breathes deeply, smiling up at him. “And I know you would too. The throne is not something you have ever lusted after, and you will be crowned king with reluctance for fear of war once more erupting. It is only the most honourable of men who would do such a thing, and you must remember this Richard. You are no usurper. You are a kind, just man who wanted to remain loyal to your brother’s wishes, but have been prevented from doing so by relentless external forces that you cannot control.”

He kisses her then, a short meeting of their lips that leaves her nowhere from satisfied but just intensifies the ache. “How is it you always know what to say?” he questions against her lips, smiling. She smiles back, her eyes closed as she enjoys the moment. His hands find her loose hair, drawing strands around his fingers in a replica of the golden wedding bands that rest on their fingers.

“I’ll admit, I used to look at my father and wonder if he could become the Queenmaker as well as the Kingmaker." Richard nods at her thought, and she silently blesses her father’s soul, so long departed from the world. “When I married Edward of Lancaster I thought I would one day be queen, but I took no pleasure in the thought. If I had become the Lancastrian queen, Izzy would have been lost to me...and you as well. I came to understand that being the queen would be a weighty demand that my shoulders certainly could not bear, and I was more than content to become your duchess. I do not need to be crowned queen Richard.” She shakes her head at him, tracing her fingers on his chin. “I am your wife, the mother of your son, your love, and that is more than enough for me. I couldn’t bear to wear the furs without thinking of Izzy and how wasted her life was.”

He loosens his grip of her, and silently helps her out of her dress. The shift underneath covers most of her body, but Richard’s gaze deepens as he looks at her. She smiles, pressing a kiss to his cheek before pouring them both a glass of wine and taking a seat near the roaring fire. “Come husband,” she jests, patting the seat next to her. “Partake in some merriment with your youthful wife.”

“I am only four years older than you,” he mumbles in mock fury. She widens her eyes, laughing at his expression. “Four years the wiser then?” she questions, arching an eyebrow. “Four years the stronger, four years the better? I must seem so immature in comparison to your wisdom!”

To her surprise Richard does not sit down next to her, nor does he offer a reply to her jesting. It seems he has once more withdrawn into himself, obviously contemplating her previous spiel. Instead of sitting down in the chair beside her, he offers her his hand, tugging her out of the seat she had only sat down it and then seating himself upon it. Hands still joined, he then tugs her down onto his lip, a movement so gentle and loving that she flushes at it. His fingers loosely grasp his wine glass and he slips slowly from it, the red liquid tainting his lips. His mouth will taste like wine tonight, and she shivers at the thought, his free hand latched onto her waist gently. His fingers traces absentmindedly on her skin, and she wonders if he is aware of the effect he has on her every time he touches her, even after ten years of marriage.

So much has happened in the last few weeks that she longs to tug him towards their bed and make him forget about his troubles – if only for a few hours. When she wakes in the morning he will be gone from her, his scent still on the pillows and a flower on his desk. She will go to sleep wrapped in his embrace, her hair loose again his chest, but she will wake without his presence, and the thought saddens her. For all the affection he bestows upon her, she wishes that for one morning he would remain with her, greeting her with kisses and allowing her to wake up surrounded by love.

They both gaze into the fire, the flames heating her skin comfortingly. Richard still sips from his wine glass, but she has discarded her for fear of consuming too much. It would not be seemingly to wake up with a headache and there is still much for them to discuss. However, Richard seems content not to speak, occupying his lips with the wine glass and then by her mouth. His stubble is raspy once more against her cheek as he bestows upon her face his kisses.

“Richard,” she murmurs against his skin, his kisses turning her skin feverishly hot. She longs for him to run his fingers through her hair but his hands remain planted on her hips, locking their bodies together in an agonising embrace.

He breaks away from her in a surprising movement, and she flushes at his movement, at her obvious wantonness. Ten years married but she still craves her husband like a maid in spring. He notes her embarrassment and shakes his head at her, raising her chin up so her eyes meet his gaze. “I have decided,” he tells her, soothing out the furrows in her brow with the pad of a thumb.

“And?” she questions, lacing their hands together. “Will you do as I have asked and revoke the idea of a double coronation? I would like nothing more than to be your queen, but I can wait and revel in the knowledge that your love for me will not waiver despite your rise in status.” Mockingly she murmurs, “Shall I have to curtsey to you before I kiss you?”

Richard shakes his head furiously, wrinkling his forehead. “You will be crowned alongside me,” he tells her, and she pursues her lips at his decision. Noting this, he continues pleadingly, “Anne, you have been my wife for ten years. I cannot bear to be parted from you. The public and all the nobility deserve to understand that my love for you is true, that you are my heart, soul and the only person I can seek solace from.” His fingers sweep strands of hair away from her brow, rubbing her neck soothingly. “You will be my queen Anne, and I shall be your king. I couldn’t bear the ceremony without you by my side. You are my true partner, and I will not be deprived of your presence.”

She murmurs softly in concurrence, rising from his lap and taking his hand. “Now that the matter is settled, we shall have no need to discuss it any more. I find myself weary, and I long for your company. Let us go to bed husband, before you are crowned king and taken away from me.”

“I shall never be parted from you.” He presses a soft kiss to her lips. “You will be my queen.”


End file.
